


The Power he Knows Not, LOVE

by TeachUsSomethingPlease



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood, Blood and Violence, Dark Harry Potter, Dumbledore is Sans, Fade to Black, Gen, Harry Potter is Frisk, Harry is a Murderhobo, Horror, I Don't Even Know, I realised I made a funny in the tags don't be fooled, Insane Harry Potter, Insane Remus Lupin, Insane Sirius Black, Insanity, Murder, Not Quite Possession, Remus Lupin is Chara, Sirius Black is Flowey, Sirius Black is Pretty Creepy, Sirius is VERY messed up, Soulless Remus Lupin, Soulless Sirius Black, There is no funny here, Why Did I Write This?, past wolfstar - Freeform, probably disturbing, this is why i can't have nice things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27119074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeachUsSomethingPlease/pseuds/TeachUsSomethingPlease
Summary: Wizards are midway between monsters and humans. Sometimes, when their souls leave their body, their own determination is enough...The Ministry makes the mistake of Kissing the (sane, innocent) prisoner Sirius Black and the (not) dangerous werewolf Remus Lupin and promptly creates two abominations. Luckily, Remus is more monster than human, so he doesn't have a body. Sirius, on the other hand...In which Harry is Frisk, Remus is Chara and lodged inside Harry's mind, Sirius is Asriel, and they're all completely insane.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Harry Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	The Power he Knows Not, LOVE

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what made me write this, but it sounded like a good idea at the time. If you can't take an entirely twisted, disturbing version of Sirius, Remus, and Harry, backpedal now. Thank you.

There are a number of things that can go wrong in this strange world, but this had to have been one of the worse ones.

Humans are made of substance, monsters are made of magic, and wizards are something in between. Not quite the kindness, bravery, compassion of a monster, not quite the stability of a human. They do not melt with determination, nor do their souls disintegrate without a vessel, but as these traits are in absence, so is the natural aversion to what is wrong that makes monsters so very vulnerable to deception and yet so very good at love. Not LOVE. Love.

* * *

He is bitter. How can a man not be so, after years and years of silence for something he thought he'd left behind? How can a man not be, when everything he once had was ripped from him so easily, swiftly? How can he not be, when they came and tried to take everything that made him himself, flayed away the very being of a living heart? How can any man be sane, even, knowing what they did, knowing how they proclaimed a hero and took the people who surrounded him and choked them and strangled them and twisted them?

He had seen other prisoners taken to the abominations before, marched in chains, Aurors jeering, past his cell door. Their eyes are always the first thing he looks at. All inmates have the same physique, in the end, gaunt and sallow and ragged. The eyes are where the rest of them sits, defiant or scared or crazed or weak or disbelieving. He remembers the last person they took away, years ago, a boy only a little younger than he was himself, remembers the terror in his eyes as they twitched, gaze frantically skittering around the corridor in the brief moments he could be seen, reduced to nothing more than a trapped animal. They said, later, than the boy was innocent, and he couldn't help but laugh, and laugh, and laugh until he collapsed on the ground and his lungs gave out. Innocent, and gone forever. Were the enemy really worse?

And now he reminisces on being awoken by the shriek of iron against stone, on being half-dragged down the hallway, thrown on the ground at the feet of those - things -

He would have taken anything, he thinks, any other death, no matter the blood and pain, rather than bear this fate. The best he can say for it was it was dignified, but even this burns him. He never wanted to go dignified. He wanted to go fighting, and they didn't let him.

He notes, hazily, that the cold is gone, but so is something else. The only thing that kept him going all this time. The only note of warmth in his own personal hell. He tries to recall what it felt like and draws a blank. There's something new there, now. It feels numb, yet it burns.

Not love. LOVE.

* * *

It's for the best, they say. Harry Potter is starting school soon. He doesn't need Sirius Black and that thing (for does he really deserve the title of man, of wizard?) hovering over him. It's the cost of maintaining them lifted from the shoulders of the State. It is for the best.

If he still had his soul, he would cry. But now, all he feels is possessive madness.

* * *

He only has the ability to SAVE, to RESET, for a few months before it's yanked away from it. It disappoints him, but there's only so many times he can loop time back and step out from the shadows at the people on the street, attack and trick and cajole and frighten, the ones who betrayed him and all he ever stood for, even if it is amusing.

That doesn't mean, though, he doesn't notice time jittering around him. He feels it, notices it, plays around with it. He finds out he can't screw up too much, lest his actions butterfly to whoever it is that's messing about with the timeline, but anything else?

It's fair game, and he enjoys it as much as he can, especially as time inches slowly forward and people finally start acting different.

And yet…

He's almost glad when he feels the world RESET completely, throwing him back to a week into the 1991 school year. He became bored eons ago, it feels like. Perhaps it's time to change things a little.

* * *

"Hey, pup! I'm Sirius, Sirius Black!"

He grins a crooked grin at the child he would once have given his soul for, and the boy cocks an eyebrow at him as he realises that this green-eyed memory of the past is the thing that's been bending time into loops and bows and quaint spirals. Harry probably suspects, really, he's never appeared in Harry's life before, but hey, he may as well play along. It'll be more fun.

"You're new to this whole magic business, aren't you? Y'know what you need? Some LV."

A flash of recognition shoots across Harry's eyes as they stare up at the older man. "What's LV?"

He smiles, just how he remembers smiles worked back when love, not LOVE, bloomed in his soul. "LV? LOVE, of course! Why don't you start with… say… THIS!"

It only takes the DMLE ten minutes to show up at Harry's door, but by then, he's escaping out the window, wand left discarded on the floor under Harry's bed, and even through the anger that the game's over, he can't help but feel smug at remembering the look Harry gave an untraceable instrument of magic.

* * *

"Wow, pup," he chuckles slowly, and Harry simply turns to look at him as he stands there, bright green eyes piercing through the darkness. In another world, his chest would ache at seeing those eyes shining in James's face, but this is not that place.

"Sirius," Harry says calmly, and he recognizes the calm, a very familiar calm, and he remembers the way an innocent face once stretched into a cool, vindictive grin, and he jumps with glee inside, because this is just perfect.

"You never killed her before," he says casually, walking past the trail of blood that trickles through and past the fire, grinding his heel into the ashes that litter the mirror chamber as if lives haven't just been snuffed out. "But that wasn't interesting, huh? You got bored."

He laughs, aware of his own face lighting up with mirth, and vaguely wonders if they would have been disgusted at him, but it doesn't matter anymore. "You're so naïve, pup… You aren't the only one to hold that little power, to reshape the world… determination, the blood of gods…"

He swings around to look Harry in the eye, and sees vague shock and horror on the boy's face, the vision unusual, but not painful like he once thought it would be. "The ability to SAVE. You know, pup, I thought I was the only one with that power, but… I can't save anymore. Apparently you override me…"

Harry's eyes widen, and for a moment, he thinks he sees glee flicker behind the bright eyes, and the fire inside him flickers. Determination.

"Well, well," he drawls, bending down to look the first year right in the eye. "Enjoy that power while you can, pup." He feels his smile stretch into a manic grin, so tight and wide he feels as if his face will split in two.

"I'll be watching…"

* * *

He keeps his word.

He watches as Gilderoy Lockhart stumble out of a tunnel. A flash of red light, the sound of a roof caving in…

He watches as Barty Crouch Jr attempts to take hold of Harry and the boy lashes out, pulling a knife from nowhere, spilling red wine and brown mud onto green grass as the endless masses scream in terror.

He watches as Harry steps out of a hall lines with glass orbs, his arm levelling a wand at the turned back of a figure in black. The quick cast of a spell and a shower of ruby droplets as the blonde figure of Lucius Malfoy collapses to the ground.

He watches as, in depths of inebriation, Horace Slughorn makes a mistake, tries to resist, and Harry is upon the man faster than the watcher can blink, slashing and cursing until he gets what he wants and what's left of the man is left to the spiders that roam the forest floors.

He watches the way Harry's eyes light up with barely-disguised malice and viciousness as he spies a familiar toadlike woman in pink, the way he blows through the Ministerial defences until he's finally, finally, standing before her, and his wand swipes through the air like a sword as Dolores Umbridge is blasted into oblivion.

He watches as Harry walks calmly to his death, watches a fountain of determination rise up from his soul, watches a body thrown forwards and an arm raised and a spell that strikes true. He watches as they celebrate and he wonders, what now?

He steps out of the shadow of the trees, just a little, and Harry catches his eyes, and he nods. Harry nods back, and vanishes. He watches in disappointment.

A year later, he wakes up in the forest he knows so very, very well, and something like joy bubbles up in his chest.

* * *

The next time they meet, he throws back his head and laughs, a barking sound, wild and vicious and free. "Pup!" he exclaims, bobbing down to the boy's height as the young student stands, neutral-faced, admiring, it seems, the pile of Quirrell's ashes on the floor as they mix with the slowly darkening burgundy liquid pooling on the stone. "Pup! Oh, Merlin, you're not really just a wizard, are you?"

Harry says nothing, just tilts his head slightly, and Sirius smiles widely, trying not to dance from the fire burning through him as he counts off the names. Longbottom, Granger, Quirrell… a dozen students he doesn't recognize, a rainbow of blue and red and yellow and green…

"No. No, you're… you're empty inside. Just like me. Yeah? You…"

He pauses, searching the boy's face, and catches it, a flash of forest among emerald. He remembers a long night spent poring over texts, a long-winded explanation of just how a consciousness could stay with the living… forever…

"Remus. You're in there, aren't you?" he whispers softly, and Harry's mouth twitches just slightly.

He beams, putting his hands on his bent knees, swaying in a manner reminiscent of an animal tracking its prey. "I have a plan," he says, serious and confident. "To become powerful. More powerful than you and your soul, now…"

He pauses, then grins, all white teeth and flashes of sharp fangs. "Let's destroy it. Let's destroy them. All of them. All these worthless people…" He shoots the ashes and blood a disdainful look. "Let's grind them all to dust. Yeah… I think we're up to no good now, eh, pup? Moony?"

* * *

This time, the ground stains Gryffindor red.

Draco Malfoy when he doses out taunts, Fred and George Weasley when they become irritating, Severus Snape when he catches them disposing of Ernie MacMillan, Lockhart and Riddle in the Chamber. A trail of still, terrified bodies and fragile spines.

Ronald Weasley when he becomes jealous, Barty Crouch Jr when he tries to take Harry away, Krum and Delacour and Diggory and faceless visitors in between. Thin trails of crimson splotches, clouds of red in icy water. He trails his fingertips over the cold wrists of Pettigrew and smiles.

The real Alastor Moody and his protégé Nymphadora Tonks when they monitor his house, Mundungus Fletcher when he tries to bail, Lucius Malfoy in the same, perfect manner despite valiant fighting, countless Inquisitorial squad members. Veritable showers of fresh scarlet, the hissing scent of iron.

Horace Slughorn, Bellatrix Lestrange, Amycus Carrow, Fenrir Greyback… a parade of the proud and the greedy, those who raise their noses in the air and take. Quicker, simpler ends, more manoeuvring than actual death, and yet neither of them likes it any less, he thinks.

Dolores Umbridge and her doomed cronies, Ministerial staff and bystanders alike, a Dumbledore who unleashes hell and forces RESETs and more hell, and then Voldemort, all ended with jets of vivid green, and his heart flutters despite the fact he runs on LOVE as he remembers without feeling what it was like to be free with his fellows…

"You've done it, pup," he smiles, and Harry turns around, smiling back as he pumps his fist in the air in victory, even as the castle in the distance stands half-deserted, for all the students pitched out of windows onto hard stone or quietly thrown to the forest. "You've done it! Pup - Moony - I - I thought we could never do this, y'know? Not after I couldn't feel anything… not after I exhausted everything I knew about the world… ha! Let's - let's show them. Show the muggles - show them what we can do. You understand me, Moons."

He watches Harry walking over, casually kicking Voldemort to the side, and grins at him, all mischief and playfulness and bloodlust. The antithesis to Harry's - Moony's - cool, borderline unnerving façade.

"You're kinda creepy sometimes, y'know," he says amiably, and Harry's smile grows wider. "C'mon, then. I'll be - what you need me to be. We'll take the world together."

Harry's smile grows wider still, canines glinting.

"No pity, no mercy, removing anyone who stands in the way." The thing once known as Sirius Black smiles, and holds out a hand.

Harry tilts his head, and takes the final step forward.

**Author's Note:**

> What happened next? You decide. It could fall either way. Flowey-Sirius is creepy as hell, but so is Frisk-Harry-Chara-Remus-Thing.
> 
> If you like, you can try and guess who's who, but really, all you have to know is Dumbledore is Sans and Voldy is Asgore.
> 
> I don't know what this is and I'm genuinely sorry if I ruined the Marauders for you.


End file.
